


Of Castles and Storm Clouds

by FangirlFiles



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform, Soulmate AU, TW: Slight self harm I guess but not really, TW: Suicide Mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlFiles/pseuds/FangirlFiles
Summary: Soulmate AU, Roman wakes up one day to find that the marking on his wrist that once represented his soulmate is gone. His soulmate is dead. As his world comes crashing down, he meets Virgil, who understands the feelings all too well. Mutual feelings of loss and betrayal, along with a heavy dose of shared darkness, bring them together. Can they believe in second chances?





	Of Castles and Storm Clouds

For as long as he could remember, Roman had the image of a regal castle on his back, like a tattoo. The castle was by the water, with a blazing sun above it. He loved it, but even more than that, he loved knowing that the same image was on the underneath side of someone’s left wrist--his soulmate, the one that had a beautiful rose on their back. He knew the pattern well, running his fingers over the small one on his own wrist every day. When he woke up, he would trace the lines and wish his person a good morning, and before going to bed he would wish them a good night, wherever they were.

He would lose himself in dreams of the day he would meet them. While some people would hide their tattoos out of nervousness, he made sure that his was always on display, waving his hands around wildly during conversation in hopes that someone would recognize that beautiful rose. He was ready for his love to find him, and he grew up making elaborate plans to make them happy. 

He never thought it would happen to him.

Morning came and he looked down at his wrist to find the rose had vanished. His heart pounded, rubbing his fingers vigorously over where it had been. He knew instantly what it meant. He felt his hopes and dreams shatter inside of him. All of the love he had been waiting for was destroyed in a moment. He held his wrist close to his chest and rolled over and cried into his pillow until he couldn’t cry anymore. His soulmate was dead, before he even got the chance to meet them.

Two days passed before he finally got out of bed, only drawn out by the need to eat. He didn’t look up any more than he had to, feeling truly alone for the first time in his empty apartment. He tried to keep the dreams out of his head, dreams of his soulmate moving in, adding their own little touches to the place, dreams of them falling asleep on the couch together watching cheesy romance movies, dreams of them being happy together and making this place a home. 

Once he had gotten up, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing to the same thought over and over. What happened? How did they die? Who were they? He knew where the answers would be. A horrible website that he never thought he would have to use. Soul Reaper. Even the name was horrifying. He tried to keep himself from doing it, but he couldn’t ignore the thought anymore. He had to know.

He pulled out his laptop and climbed back into bed, opening the website. In the corner, a little grim reaper mocked him. This website was truly the lowest of the low. Even so, he made an account and entered his card information, cringing as he clicked the button that would take twenty five dollars out of his account. How could anyone justify making money off of this? He clicked on the search bar and typed “rose”. Several images popped up, close up pictures of pale backs that he knew belonged to the dead. He scrolled through different roses, hoping that he wouldn’t see the one he recognized, hoping it was all a mistake. His stomach sank when he saw it. 

There, right in front of him on the screen, was the red, beautiful rose that he knew. The rose that he had whispered dreams and stories to. The rose that he had wished wonderful things to everyday. His mouse shook as he clicked on the image. Several pictures came up, stolen shamelessly from social media websites, and Roman felt a sob rise up in his throat. That was him. He was beautiful. His name was Devon. He looked tall and slim, with dark blonde hair. He was a writer. Tears streamed down Roman’s face as he read everything he could find about the boy that he never got to meet. Then he scrolled to the bottom of the page and saw something that made his heart break completely. 

Cause of death: Suicide.

He slammed his laptop shut and shoved it away from him, throwing himself out of bed. He paced around his apartment, slamming his fist on his thigh over and over again as he walked. Rage flooded through him. How could he do this to him? How could he leave him before they ever met? Roman had sent him nothing but love, and this is what he got in return? Tears stung his eyes and dripped from his chin. His thigh ached with pain from the repeated abuse. They hadn’t even met yet. Things could have been better. Whatever had been so bad in his life, surely knowing that they would meet some day would make it better. How could this happen? It had to be a mistake.

But it wasn’t a mistake and he knew it. He could feel it.

He sunk to the floor in the middle of his living room and wrapped his arms around his sides. It wasn’t fair. How could he do this? None of this was fair. His chest ached from crying so hard. His throat burned. He was alone. Really, truly alone. Could he handle that?

He had spent all of his life waiting for the day that they would meet, for the day that everything that he had waited and longed for would come true, the day that he would get his happy ending. Could he do it on his own? He was completely alone. He hadn’t bothered to make many close friends. They had never been the one he was looking for. He hadn’t kept in touch with family. He had nothing, nothing but this stranger that he had never, and never would meet.

For a moment, just a short, dark moment, he thought of joining him. He had spent so long waiting for this person that the thought of never finding him would be unbearable. He thought of ending it right then and there. There was a number of ways that he could do it. No one would come looking for him. It would be so easy. But it was only a short moment, a moment that hurt more than he thought it could. Just the thought alone weighed him down. He had sunk to the bottom in mere days.

He was too afraid to die.

\--

He had to pull himself together and he knew it. When did he shower last? He had never let himself go like this before. When you could meet your soulmate at any moment, you always have to be presentable. But now that wasn’t an issue. Was there even a point? He had no one to impress now. It was easy to fall into that line of thinking, but he had made a decision. He needed to get help. He was too afraid to die and he was too afraid to keep going like this. And there was no way that he was going to be seeing anyone in his current state.

It took hours for him to finally motivate himself to get off of the couch where he had parked himself after forcing down breakfast. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at himself. He looked disgusting. His hair was a greasy mess, parts of it glued to his forehead and others sticking straight out in all directions. His skin had a shine to it that made him feel sick. He had never once seen himself so disheveled. 

He pulled his shirt over his head and immediately froze with his arms still caught in the sleeves. Would it still be there? The mark that defined him, the beautiful castle that was painted on his back, would it have disappeared with the rose on his wrist? If he didn’t have a soulmate anymore, surely there was no need for such a marking. He stood there, half tangled in the fabric of his shirt, wide eyes staring back at him from the cold glass. Everything was frozen, his own breathing echoing loudly in his ears, until suddenly the stillness shattered. He pulled the shirt off of his arms the rest of the way, tossing it to the floor. He turned and looked over his shoulder into the mirror.

Relief washed over him for a moment. It was still there. Then he realized that it was different, and nausea churned in his stomach. It had changed. The castle, his castle, was still there, but the sky above it was different. Storm clouds had infiltrated the once clean sky. He was tainted. The darkness that he felt bloom inside of him was there to stay. It defined a part of him now. He was a different person now.

\--

It took a few days for him to get the courage to join a group for people like him, people that had lost their soulmates. But now, he is standing outside of an old building that looks like it had been abandoned a long time ago, but apparently not. A laminated piece of neon green paper is taped to the door, advertising the group. This is the right place. Roman sighs, suddenly hyper aware of the feeling of his shirt sleeve against the blank skin of his wrist. The other people there would have bare wrists too, but even so, he feels self conscious. He had never been a nervous person, but then again, he feels like a completely different person now anyway. 

He sighs and finally pulls open the door. The building is creepy and dark, fluorescent lights flicker overhead. How can they hold a meeting for hurting people in a place like this? Small groups of people are huddled together around the edges of the room, seeming to avoid the circle of chairs until the last moment, except for one boy. He has sunk into his chair, legs sprawled forward and his arms crossed tightly against his chest. His hood is pulled up and fading purple bangs fall over his eyes, lined heavily with black eye shadow beneath them. He is watching everyone in the room from behind his bangs, as if he is a ghost and no one can truly see him. They make eye contact and Roman feels heat rise in his face. Neither one of them look away for a long moment. There is an energy between them that Roman has never felt before, something dark and burning. 

Roman startles when a woman claps loudly from the front of the room, motioning for everyone to take their seats. The room seems to brighten as the feeling between them breaks. Roman collects himself and settles into the only available seat left, directly across from the mysterious boy, who pulls his hood down to reveal a large pair of headphones, which he doesn’t remove.

The meeting lacks structure. Anyone is allowed to speak if they want to, but no one is forced. Roman doesn’t say a word, listening instead to the stories of the other people. He keeps being drawn back in to stare at the boy across from him. His eyes are intense, flicking back and forth between the people around him. Roman wonders if he has music playing or if it’s just to keep people from talking to him. Someone stumbles through a prepared speech about how it’s so hard to lose the one that we love so soon and the boy rolls his eyes and sinks lower into his chair. He stares at Roman again. There is anger there, he can feel it, so similar to his own. He doesn’t have to ask to know that they are experiencing the same thing, more than anyone else in the room. The anger of not losing someone, but having them taken away by their own choice. Betrayal. 

The meeting ends sooner than Roman had expected, and he realizes that they had been staring at each other for longer than he thought. Something had been shared between them, something deeper than the half hearted “I’m sorry for your loss” phrase that seemed to echo in this room. The boy stands abruptly as soon as the leader says that she hopes to see everyone next week, and Roman notes that he had been listening after all. With one last glance at Roman, he rushes out the back door. Roman can’t help but follow.

He pushes the door harder than he needs to, sending it flying open. He is met with the boy’s surprised face as he looks up from his phone. Roman freezes and the door hits the back of his heel. 

“Wrong door,” he mutters, going back to his phone. He’s leaning against the brick wall, texting.

“I don’t think so.” He steps out of the way of the door and lets it click shut behind him.

The boy smirks, “yeah well that door locks. So you’re stuck out here now.”

“Oh.” Roman pauses for a moment, not really sure what he’s even doing out here. “Why were you staring at me?”

He watches the boy tuck his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and cross his arms again. “I’m pretty sure you were the one staring at me.”

“Maybe.” And there it is again, that magnetic feeling. Some darkness shared between the two of them, something familiar and scary, but intensely attractive. Roman takes a step forward. “But you definitely stared back.”

“Maybe.” Honey brown eyes shift in front of him, somehow closer than Roman had realized, and suddenly he can’t help himself. Their lips meet in an instant, before either of them know what is happening.

Roman’s mind is reeling. He feels like he’s in two places at once. On one end, he is so zeroed in on this moment. Sure, he had kissed people before, moments of lust that he called “practice” for when he met his soulmate, but he had always felt bad about it. This feels free, but it also feels like revenge. It feels bitter and angry and full of so many things. But on the other hand, he feels lost in his own head. Who is this boy? Does he even care? He has only known him for about a minute, but he knows that there’s something that churned in his stomach when he heard his voice, and something that pricks at his skin when those eyes meet his own. There are teeth biting at his lip and it hurts but it’s good, and his palms scrape against the roughness of the brick on either side of the other’s head.

Roman pushes forward more, feeling sharp hip bones against his own when a beep comes from the boy’s back pocket and the body against his suddenly stiffens. Roman pulls away, shocked and suddenly flooded with nerves. He desperately wants those eyes to meet his again, but they don’t. 

“I have to go,” the boy says, turning to leave. Something stops him and he stands frozen for a moment before abruptly turning and grabbing Roman’s right hand. He pulls a thick, black sharpie from the pocket of his hoodie and roughly pulls up Roman’s sleeve. He begins writing his phone number in large, jagged font and Roman feels his heart pounding in his chest. He stares down at the hand that is writing on his skin, the left hand. His eyes travel to his wrist. It’s  covered by a checkered wristband, but Roman knows that beneath it is nothing. Blank skin. Suddenly the hand pulls away and the boy runs down the alleyway, leaving Roman alone.

He sighs and lets himself fall against the wall that he had someone pushed against just moments ago. Someone he doesn’t even know the name of. He pulls up his sleeve that had fallen and he sees, written above the numbers, the name Virgil. “Huh.”

He stays there for a few minutes before finally pushing himself off the wall and trying the door. Just as Virgil had said, it’s locked. Roman tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans and makes his way down the alley, hoping that the path back to his car wouldn’t be too terribly confusing.

\--

Roman twirls his phone in his hand. He’s been doing this for the past half hour, trying to decide if he should call, or text, or wait until tomorrow, or longer, or not at all. None of this is what he was planning. He was so sure that everything would work out magically, he and his soulmate would fall in love quickly and instantly have a life together. Simple. This is nothing close to simple. 

Somehow he had found himself kissing a stranger in an alley and not feeling bad about it in the slightest. Somehow he had this twisted excitement in his chest, something between knowing that he was free to do whatever the hell he wants and feeling like he was doing all the wrong things in all the best ways. Finally he decides on a text. There are no rules to how soon you can text someone after something like this, right? He was never exactly patient anyway.

_ R: Well that was an interesting meeting. I’m Roman, by the way. _

After a few minutes, he notices that the text had been read, but not replied to. He frowns and leans back against his headboard. It takes a few more minutes for his phone to beep and he scrambles to pick it up.

_ V: Hey. _

“Hey?” Roman questions aloud. “That’s it?”

He is trying to think of a reply when his phone beeps again.

_ V: Sorry… about all of that. I don’t usually do that kind of thing. _

_ R: I didn’t mind. _

_ V: Ha, obviously. _

_ R: Obviously? _

_ V: Yes, obviously. _

Roman groans. Talking to Virgil is like running around in circles, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

_ R: I wouldn’t mind doing it again. _

The text is marked as read again, and Roman’s heart pounds as he waits for a response.

_ V: You’re very forward. _

_ R: Is that a bad thing? _

_ V: I haven’t decided yet. _

Roman is lost for words. This boy is definitely not an open book. His phone beeps again.

_ V: Text me tomorrow and I’ll tell you. _

_ R: I’ll await tomorrow then. Good night, Virgil. _

_ V: Night. _

He drops his phone on the pillow beside him, still unsure of what is happening. Is there even a point to this? Obviously this isn’t going to work out. They aren’t soulmates. Nothing like this will ever work out for him. It’s a lost cause. So why is he doing this? Why is he chasing this feeling? Somewhere deep down inside he knows that this is just him acting out. He just wants to feel something and this stranger was the first one to properly look at him. His phone beeps again and all of the questions get pushed out of his mind and are replaced with the need for something to make him feel alive.

_ V: Or you could come over. _

Roman barely has time to read it before another text comes in.

_ V: Or not. Whatever. _

_ R: An impromptu rendezvous? _

_ V: Uh, sure. That. _

_ R: I like the sound of that. _

Before he knows it, Roman is in his car again, following his GPS to a place only a few miles away. He keeps pushing away the thoughts that ask him what he’s doing and why. He doesn’t want to listen to them. He can be reckless. Who cares? He can chase this feeling if he wants to, it’s the most alive he has felt since the moment his mark disappeared. Maybe he would feel bad if he couldn’t feel the same darkness coming from Virgil, if he was doing this with someone who was actually interested in him instead of just someone who also wanted to get out some aggression, and maybe wanted to feel alive as well. 

Then he’s at the door and he’s knocking and he isn’t so sure anymore. People always call him charming, but he’s never done something like this before and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. But when the door opens and those eyes are staring at him again it doesn’t matter to either of them. Suddenly hands are in his hair and the door is closing and they’re stumbling but they don’t care. Somehow they’re falling onto a couch and he has the other boy’s hair tickling his face but he lets it happen. There are cold fingers on his hips and lips against his neck and everything feels so good, but there’s something. Something ticking in the back of his mind, a countdown to how much is too much and how long this can go on before someone questions it. Because they aren’t soulmates. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is wrong but it feels so good and they don’t really care. Yet. 

The intensity grows and so does the volume of that ticking sound until suddenly the timer hits zero for both of them. They pull away from each other, wide eyed and panting. Somehow Virgil had climbed off and backed away from the couch in milliseconds, bumping into the coffee table behind him and stumbling before recovering. He hides his face in his hands and starts pacing back and forth, muttering “I’m sorry” a few times before sinking down to the floor on the other end of the room. His knees are pulled to his chest and his arms hang off of them. He looks exasperated. He huffs and his bangs fly up for a second before falling back down to cover his eyes. He doesn’t move them.

Silence stretches on, neither of them sure what to say. Roman sits up and looks around the room, feeling his pounding heart start to slow. It’s messy in that half cleaned for company kind of way. CDs are haphazardly piled on the counter and some records are strewn across the coffee table. He notices the headphones that he had been wearing earlier are hanging on a hook by the door, he clearly takes them everywhere. Music is everywhere in the apartment, even some sheet music, though he doesn’t see any instruments anywhere, maybe in the bedroom. The bedroom, where they could have been headed next, where the night had intended for them to end up. But he’s glad that they aren’t there. He doesn’t really want that, he’s realized, and from the look of him, neither does Virgil. 

“So… you like music,” Roman states. The breathy laugh that comes from across the room makes it all worth it and he finds himself laughing too. The tension has broken, and once again they’re just people, without that weirdly dark pull that they both feel.

“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry… again. You know, for all of this.” Virgil lets his legs stretch out and crosses his arms, and Roman notices that he isn’t wearing his hoodie from earlier. He is wearing a short sleeved black t shirt, revealing drawings that cover his entire right arm. So that’s why he keeps a sharpie in his pocket.

“Well I’m pretty sure you’re not the only one participating, so it’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry.” 

“Pretty sure?”

“Yes, pretty sure.” Roman flashes him a smile, referring back to their earlier texts.

“Whatever.” Virgil shakes his head and anxiously rubs circles on the back of his neck.

“You look like something’s on your mind.”

“Something’s always on my mind.” For a moment Roman thinks that’s all that he’ll get out of the mysterious stranger that he’s only ever made out with and never properly talked to, but then he sighs and lets it all spill out. “You know what? Just fuck this whole soulmate thing. I’m so over it.”

Roman watches as he stands and starts pacing the room again.

“They can’t be your soulmate if they just give up and leave you, can they? That is so stupid. That’s unfair. Whatever cruel part of the universe decided that that’s what would happen clearly hates me. What did I ever do? I mean I know I suck sometimes and I’m an anxious mess all of the time but I don’t think I deserve that.” He aggressively rubs his hands over his face and groans. “Maybe I do. I don’t know. I just… I wanted that. The whole soulmate thing. Is that stupid?”

Roman shakes his head slowly. He hates seeing the hurt in those eyes. He hates how similar it is to his own. “It’s not stupid. I wanted it too.”

Virgil sinks down onto the couch next to him, staring down at his hands and picking at the skin around his nails. “I thought about it, you know. After I learned what had happened to him.”

Roman didn’t have to ask what he meant. “So did I.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air once more, but this time is different. The energy that passed between them now floating in the air around them, out in the open for both of them to see. 

“Fuck soulmates,” Virgil says again, anger building in his voice. “Fuck them. Fuck the people who give up and leave. Fuck the universe. Fuck it. Just fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.”

He’s shaking, filled with rage and hurt and so much sadness. Roman feels it too. It’s the same feelings building up in him, but hearing them voiced out loud gives him another idea. “You’re right.”

Virgil looks up, confused.

“Fuck it. The universe or whatever doesn’t get to decide for us. We get to decide. It’s our lives. Get me that sharpie.”

“What?”

“Just get it. You’ll see.” Roman is filled with determination now. He can change it. He doesn’t have to let his dreams die just because one person he never met did. Virgil stands and grabs the sharpie from the pocket of his hoodie that was hanging on the back of a chair. Roman takes it and takes Virgil’s left wrist in his hand. “May I?”

Virgil hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly.

Roman gently takes the wristband off and turns his hand over to reveal the blank canvas on his wrist. He takes the sharpie and begins to draw the castle that he knows by heart. “We can choose what our destiny, fate, or whatever is. We can decide. Maybe just for a day, maybe for longer. We meet people for a reason, it doesn’t have to be one person that’s our soulmate. I’m here with you because I was meant to be. Maybe just for tonight…” He pauses, questioning two different things. Does he draw the sunny landscapes of his past, or does he reveal the stormy skies that hang over his castle now? And does he want this thing between him and Virgil to last, or to fade away as a strange learning experience? But he shakes his head. He knows the answer to that already. He begins drawing the dark clouds. “...or maybe something more permanent. I don’t know. But for right now, for tonight and for however long we want it, we can be soulmates. Because we choose. Not some mysterious being in the sky or something.”

He puts the cap back on the sharpie and watches as Virgil stares down on it, his face an unreadable mixture of things. Maybe he had overstepped. He knows how important the image that was once on his wrist once was, and by replacing it, maybe he had ruined something special. But then Virgil rips the pen from his hands and sets to work drawing on Roman’s wrist. His lines are jagged and he’s pressing harder than he should. Roman watches in shock as the image is revealed, suddenly understanding the expression that had been on Virgil’s face just moments before. There, appearing on his wrist, is a storm cloud identical to the one that hung above Roman’s castle.

“No, that can’t be right.” Roman mumbles to himself as Virgil sets the pen down.

“That’s mine. I’ll show you, if you want…”

Roman nods, watching as Virgil pulls his shirt over his head and turns around, revealing the storm cloud and lightning bolt that was now scrawled on his wrist in permanent marker. Just a bit ago this would have been filled with sexual tension. He would have been focused on the soft skin and the muscles beneath it, and probably wouldn’t have even paid enough attention to notice the thick lines and simple design in front of him. But now, he reaches forward, glancing up to make eye contact with Virgil before laying his fingers on the skin of his back. He traces the looping lines of clouds down to the sharp edges of a lightning bolt. While the lines on Roman’s own back were thin and intricate, these were bold and dark.

He reluctantly pulls his fingers away and Virgil turns toward him, those honey brown eyes blinking at him expectantly. Roman pulls off his own shirt, remembering when he first discovered the change in his mark. The air then had been thick with fear, but now it was filled with quiet curiosity and mutual wonder. He turns away and closes his eyes, feeling cold fingers lightly brush against his back. No one had ever touched it before, and the intimacy of the moment makes his entire body flood with heat.

A quiet voice breaks through the silence, “has yours always been like this?”

Roman shook his head before elaborating. “No, it used to be clear skies and sunshine.”

Virgil hums, a low rumbling sound that vibrates in Roman’s ears. “Mine used to be the night sky. The moon, stars, all of that. I didn’t know they could change.”

Roman hums now, turning back towards the other boy, feeling those cold fingers brush along his side as he does so. They pull away immediately. The question lingers between them, but neither one knows how to ask it. Neither of them is ready. What does all of this mean? Roman had never heard of the markings changing before, let alone to something that matched another person.

Could it be that maybe, just maybe, the universe had given them a second chance? No. He couldn’t get his hopes up for that.

Virgil is staring at his hands, picking at the skin around his thumbnail. Roman pulls his shirt back on. The night had taken such a turn. He isn’t sure if he should stay or go, none of this is what they had planned. Well, not that the plan had been much of a plan in the first place.

“Stay.” Virgil blurts out, not looking up from his hands. “Please. Not for… that. Just, stay. If you want to.”

Roman nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Virgil stands and pulls his own shirt back on, disappearing into the bedroom. Roman taps his fingers against his leg and looks around, figuring that the sudden departure was the closest thing to a “good night” that he was going to get, but Virgil returns with a large comforter dragging behind him and two pillows tucked under his arm. He tosses one at Roman and the other on the opposite side of the couch, dropping the blanket on the floor in front of him. “Uh, light on or off?”

Roman grins, “you know, I was really expecting that question under different circumstances.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Virgil clicks the light off and curls up on the couch, draping the blanket over both of them.

In the darkness, Roman suddenly feels fear creeping up from the depths of himself. He wants to say it. He always said it. But he isn’t sure what it would mean this time. Every night for as long as he could remember, he would close his eyes and whisper it to the mark on his wrist, and every night he would be met with silence, but hope. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting his fingertips brush along the mark that he couldn’t see, but knew was there, scrawled on his skin in thick, black Sharpie. “Good night, sweet dreams.”

There is silence for a moment, but then Virgil’s voice quietly responds, “Yeah, good night.”

Still, there is hope.

\--

Roman had always believed in happy endings, but he had never really thought about second chances. As the days went on, the idea of them bounced around in his mind. When he awoke next to a sleeping boy who had shifted and pressed himself up against Roman’s side at some point during the night. When neither of them wanted to leave the other, and breakfast became a thing that morphed into lunch, and then dinner, and another night together. Another night with less passion and more quiet curiosity. Another night of understanding each other more than they thought anyone could. Second chances, when Roman looked down at his wrist a week later and realized that the marking hadn’t even faded a little. When he looked again a month later and those thick lines still stood out against his skin. When he asked Virgil about it and the mark that he had drawn was still there too. When they both realized that they really had decided. Soulmates by choice.

Second chances at life and love, with the beautiful images castles and storm clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It's been about six months since I've uploaded anything and I'm so sorry for that! This is technically only a first draft so sorry that it's a little rough, but I'm pretty sure that I won't be cleaning it up at all. I wanted to get something out to you all who are interested in my writing. It seems like my writing bug is returning to me so for those of you who are interested in Making Contact and Aches and Pains, those stories are NOT DEAD. They will be continuing! I'm not sure when, but I promise you they will be continued. It's all planned out in my head, I just have to get it out and into the document. Thank you all so much for your patience and I hope that you enjoy this little thing in the meantime!


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